


Kiss It Better

by lemonoclefox



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Bucky is smitten, Concerts, Crush at First Sight, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Meet-Cute, Moshpit, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Steve has piercings and stuff, they're both smitten idiots lbr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:13:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22082383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemonoclefox/pseuds/lemonoclefox
Summary: 'Elbow to the face at a metal concert' is a pretty good meet-cute.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 21
Kudos: 179





	Kiss It Better

**Author's Note:**

> I saw this prompt somewhere months ago, but I only yesterday felt like writing it. So I sat down before bed and thought, 'just a paragraph'. An hour later, this oneshot was done, so there you go. It's fun, though. Enjoy!
> 
> (there's a nosebleed involved, but nothing too graphic, just FYI)

The shock comes first; Bucky blinks, chokes on a gasp, before throwing his hands up to his face. Then, the pain kicks in.

"Oh, fuck," he breathes, squeezing his eyes shut, already tearing up from the sharp, throbbing pain that radiates through his nose. "Fuck, fuck."

He's not going to cry, no way. He's not going to cry in the middle of a heaving mass of people, surrounded by sweaty bodies and screaming, with a rather intimidating-looking band onstage, and his friends inconveniently nowhere in sight.

That said, he might actually cry. He blames the fact that it's his nose that's been hit; he can't exactly control his tear ducts.

"Oh, my god," someone exclaims, and Bucky's eyes open. He squints a little against the pain, annoyed by how blurry the tears have made his vision in the dim light. "Shit, are you okay?"

The guy has to yell for Bucky to hear him, but Bucky can't bring himself to reply. He intends to nod, proceeded by simply navigating his way through the crowd and outside, or to the bathroom, or whatever is closest. He'll figure it out. As it is, he doesn't nod, but rather ends up cocking his head awkwardly, which sends a fresh surge of pain through his nose, and he shuts his eyes again.

The guy mutters something―or probably says it at a normal volume, it's just drowned out by the music and the screaming and the noise―and Bucky feels a hand on his shoulder. He opens his eyes again, and the guy cocks his head to the side, as though asking Bucky to follow, and Bucky does. For lack of anything else, he lets this stranger lead him by the arm through the crowd and out toward the side of the room. It's like he knows a secret passage, as though the people are water, given how there seems to simply be a clear path wherever he goes. Maybe there's some kind of rule, unwritten or otherwise, which direction one should go if a quick exit is necessary, and that people know to move out of the way. Bucky isn't sure.

Regardless, they're soon out of the crowd, and Bucky breathes a little easier, which is bittersweet. The air isn't as thick, but it kind of hurts to breathe, either way.

"I am so sorry," the guy says, a little frantic. Bucky gets the impression he's been saying it a few times now, Bucky just couldn't hear him. "I'm so, so sorry. I didn't mean to."

Bucky frowns, but it's not until they're in a corner removed from the rest that they stop, and the guy turns to him. Bucky can see him clearly now, with proper light overhead, and his vision not quite as blurry. He's tall, well-built, with short, blonde hair and piercings. In his bottom lip, his ears, his nose―those are the ones Bucky immediately sees, at least, and they're all silver studs. Bucky's second thought is that the guy is actually pretty cute. Attractive. Very attractive. Just Bucky's luck to have someone very attractive see him like this.

The guy's face almost immediately shifts into a pained grimace, though, which quickly brings Bucky back to the present.

"Shit," the guy says quietly. He reaches out with his hand, but pauses. "May I?"

It takes Bucky a second to get what he means, and realizes that he's still got both his hands covering his nose. He lowers them slightly, and the guy gently pries them away from Bucky's face. His pained grimace turns a little more stunned, and that can _not_ be good.

"Right," the guy says. "Just, uh― Just sit tight, for a second. I'm gonna get some first aid stuff, be right back."

Bucky just nods dumbly, and the guy hurries off, leaving Bucky standing there in the corner, by himself. There are still people around, but the concert is going on in the adjacent room, and the bass is throbbing through the floor and the walls. Bucky can feel the vibrations, and they're somehow making his nose worse. He looks down at his hands, and pulls back when he sees they're covered in blood. Like, actually covered. Like he just dipped his hands in a puddle at a murder scene. Bucky tilts his head back, as though that might make a noticeable difference in stemming the blood flow, at this point.

Jesus, no wonder the guy freaked out.

"Okay," the guy says when he returns, all business. "Let's get you to a sink."

He unceremoniously takes Bucky's arm, once again, and drags him along. No one seems to be paying attention to them, but Bucky self-consciously covers his face anyway, with one hand.

The guy leads Bucky to a bathroom near the ticket desk, which appears to be for staff only. He seems to sense Bucky's confusion, and says over his shoulder, "I know them here, they said it's okay if we borrow it for a minute."

Bucky just nods, decides to trust this stranger. Well, to _keep_ trusting him.

In the bathroom, things are pretty quiet. Still vibrations running through the walls, but not nearly as bad, and Bucky quickly washes his hands in the sink before doing anything else. He doesn't look up in the mirror, doesn't want to see what he looks like, right now. Once his hands are clean―blood is surprisingly difficult to wash off skin―he sits down on the closed toilet lid, and it's not until he sits that he sags with exhaustion. The guy smiles a little, before turning serious again.

"I'm really sorry," he says, and he sounds like he means it. He opens a pack of cotton pads as he says it. Bucky, confused, just stares at him for a second.

"For what?" he finally asks, and instantly regrets it. It doesn't hurt too bad, but he sounds so stuffy and teary-eyed that it's beyond embarrassing. The guy stops dead, frowns at him.

"For elbowing you in the face?" the guy says, and Bucky makes the connection. It's an obvious one. He was just too out of it to put together that the stranger helping him out and apologizing may actually be the one responsible for his injury.

Bucky groans, instinctively goes for a dry, joking reply.

"What?" he says flatly. "Hadn't noticed."

The guy just looks at him for a second, before huffing a laugh.

"Right," he says, turning back to the cotton pads, freeing them from their plastic prison. "Still. I am sorry. It doesn't usually happen."

"No?" Bucky says.

"No," the guy says. "I've been in quite a few moshpits, but sometimes you can't help bumping into someone the wrong way."

He wets a cotton pad, before leaning down slightly and putting his fingers under Bucky's chin. He gives it a gentle nudge, and Bucky lifts it, allowing the guy to get a proper look at his face. The guy hums.

"Well," he says, "on second thought, it's probably not as bad as it looks. Don't think your nose is broken."

"Yay," Bucky says flatly, and the guy smiles. It's a nice smile, and it does make Bucky feel a little better. Especially when he hands Bucky an icepack, and that wet cotton pad starts being put to use, carefully cleaning the blood off his face.

"I'm Steve, by the way," the guy says, as Bucky gently presses the icepack to his nose. He hisses lightly, before closing his eyes at the torn sensation of relief and pain.

"Bucky."

Steve smiles. "Sorry for the bad first impression, Bucky," he says.

"You're not the one with blood all over," Bucky retorts, still sounding stuffy and swollen.

"Fair," Steve says. He throws away the cotton pad and gets another, and judging by how it wipes off Bucky's chin and cheeks, the amount of blood must be pretty excessive, having spread so far. "I think it's stopped bleeding, at least."

Bucky just hums, doesn't really feel like producing full sentences, at the moment.

Steve keeps at it for a little while, and there's something so soothing about it, if Bucky's being totally honest. The distant sound of voices and music, vibrating bass, the closed door making this mediocre bathroom feel like its own little bubble. And Steve is gentle, touching Bucky's face only to angle it slightly, as he cleans up all the blood. Bucky watches Steve as he does it, seeing as how there's really nowhere else to look, and the slightly furrowed brow shows concentration and concern. He's definitely the type of guy Bucky would normally go for, just in terms of that. The piercings and the ripped, black tank top are things he could get used to. The tattoos on Steve's arms, too. The ones he didn't really notice, until now.

"Alright," Steve eventually says, his voice softer now. "I think we're done."

Bucky blinks, as though coming out of a trance. He lowers the icepack, wrinkles his nose experimentally. Nope, still hurts. Probably will, for a while.

"Will I live?" he asks, putting the icepack back, and Steve chuckles.

"Yeah," he says. He pauses, licks his lips and rolls them over his teeth. "You might have a black eye, though."

He says it sheepishly, and Bucky's eyebrows rise.

"Seriously?" he says, just sounding tired, and Steve's expression turns sheepish, as well. It's odd, yet horribly endearing, to see someone with such a tough-looking exterior look so soft.

"Sorry," he says. Then he shrugs, a little hesitantly. "Matches your rugged good looks?"

It's an offhand comment, one which could mean nothing, but Bucky still files it away for later.

"It better," he says, adjusting the icepack. Steve has straightened up now, and Bucky has to tilt his head back to look at him, so he just ends up leaning back against the toilet properly. The porcelain feels cool against his skin, through the thin t-shirt. He didn't pick it himself, for tonight. Shuri insisted that it would be much more suitable for a heavy metal concert, than a regular t-shirt. As in, a burned-out patterns, a little see-through, in shifting shades of black and gray. Bucky will admit he likes it. He hopes not too much blood has ended up on it, or at least that it doesn't show too much, if it has. Then again, that might just make him look more metal.

"Anything else I can do?" Steve asks, with a small smile. Bucky grunts.

"Like what?" he says. Steve seems to deliberate for a second, before raising his eyebrows slightly.

"Kiss it better?"

The suggestion takes Bucky by surprise, and he just blinks. Steve's expression is sincere, though, albeit tinged with some apprehension. As though he's expecting Bucky to say no.

Bucky lowers the icepack, feeling brave.

"Don't know," he says. "Could give it a shot."

Steve looks a little surprised, but it quickly melts into a small smile. He looks amused, almost, but not in a malicious way.

Bucky keeps his eyes on Steve's as Steve makes good on his word, leaning down and placing a hand by Bucky's jaw, before pressing a kiss to his lips. It's a little on the softer side, probably because he doesn't want to make it painful, but it sends a nice little spark through Bucky's skin, nonetheless. When Steve pulls away, he doesn't go far, and Bucky doesn't open his eyes when he speaks.

"This might be the injury-related endorphins talking," he says, almost slurs, "but I think you're onto something, with this method."

Steve huffs a laugh.

"Yeah?" he says. Bucky can feel his breath on his face, and it doesn't smell like cigarettes or beer, at all.

"Yeah," he says, opening his eyes just a crack. "Should do it again, though. Just to make sure."

Steve doesn't reply, this time. Instead, he just leans in and kisses Bucky again. And again, and again, until he's straddling his lap and they're exchanging kisses as deep as Bucky's tender nose will allow, his hands on Steve's waist. He forgets all about the pain, for a little while, until there's an impatient banging at the door and the spell is broken. It doesn't matter, though. Because he gets to see Steve again later, and tomorrow, and after that, and the black eye makes for an interesting meet-cute story.

And the next concert they go to, at least Bucky does not get elbowed in the face.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [the twitters](http://twitter.com/lemonoclefox)!


End file.
